


closure (the cost of sight)

by gardenhearted



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: College AU, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, M/M, and Natsume is useless, and maybe some sexy times we'll see, be ready for angst, except Taki is the lesbian we all wanted her to be, the gays are at it again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 10:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20424572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardenhearted/pseuds/gardenhearted
Summary: After graduation, Natsume Takashi and Taki Tooru attend the same university in Tokyo. Someone from the past lives nearby, and a chance encounter triggers a spiral of events.(Natsume embodies kindness, with a soft gaze despite staring hard into harsh truths. Will one final truth break his sight?)(Taki has always yearned for what is just out of reach--sensing, not seeing. What is the cost of sight?)





	1. introduction: the cost of sight

Staring. Staring, staring, staring. Takashi felt the bird-like yokai’s eyes staring at the back of his head, boring imaginary holes through his skull and into his brain.  _ There isn’t a yokai that can actually do that, right? Stare holes through your head. I’ve never heard of one, but _ ...

“Ta-ka-shi-kun! Takashi-kun” 

Takashi turned back to his classmate, a gentle smile carefully pinned to his face. 

“Sorry, Yamamoto-san. You were saying?”

Yamamoto Yui pouted a little, ducking her dainty brunette head and looking up at Takashi through thick-lashed, warm eyes. “I wish you would call me Yui-chan like everyone else. It just--” she flicked her hair dark back with one delicate hand-- “suits me.” But her pout quickly dissolved into a light chuckle, and Takashi dropped his mask, flat-out laughing at her. They’d become friends the first day of their first year in the architecture program, and now into their second year, they were constantly together. She was achingly beautiful, in a traditional Japanese way; and together, with his supernaturally elegant looks, they were often mistaken for a couple by passerby and professors.

As they walked from their lecture towards the edge of campus, he had been attempting to ignore the harmless-looking bird yokai, perched in the top of one of the trees lining the walkway. It would be totally ignorable, despite its size--that of a large golden retriever--but its stare was getting disconcerting. 

_ It’s at times like these I wish I had Nyanko-sensei with me,  _ he thought.

“But like I was saying...Taki-chan’s birthday party will be at 7 tomorrow evening, but I want you to come over early and help me set up. It’s gotta be perfect…”

Natsume smiled. “Of course. I’ll bring the cake you ordered from Sakamoto’s, and if you think of anything else, just text me tomorrow,” he said gently, as they approached the corner of the quad, where they would take separate routes back to their dorms. 

Yui looked off down the street, letting her cutesy facade fade just for a moment. Natsume recognized that look, and suddenly chuckled. Yui glanced up, immediately irritated. “What are you laughing about, asshole?” 

“For such a sweet face, you really do have a potty mouth,” Natsume teased gently, smiling that half-smile that just didn’t quite seem real. But then his face became serious. “Yamamoto-san, tomorrow will be perfect. And don’t be nervous. Anything you do, Taki-san will absolutely adore.”

Yui nodded, immediately picking her face back up into a wicked smile with a twinkle in her eye. “Well, if I manage to make Taki-chan fall in love with me, I guess you’’ll be only single one in our group, right, Takashi-kun? We’ll have to find you a mannnnnnn……” she took off skipping down the street towards her dorm. Before he could protest, or tell her to pipe down, she was already halfway down the block, her short stature fading into the twilight. 

_ Well, shit. _ His eyes darted around the street, looking for any curious faces that may have heard the latter part of Yui’s foolhardy departure. Fortunately for Takashi, the street was largely deserted, with the fading summer light giving way to a chilly evening. He hurried down the street in the opposite direction, looking forward to warming up the leftover soup he had stashed away in the fridge, where his roommate hopefully hadn’t found it and downed it after another of his ridiculous soccer meets.

As he hurried, his mind filled with Yui’s last words and thoughts of dinner, he had completely forgotten the bird-like yokai, who followed his path home with beady, inexpressive eyes.

\---

  
  


Taki sighed. Brushing her strawberry-blonde bangs from her face, she tapped her temple slowly, in an attempt to inspire some great conclusion for the final paragraph of her paper. Her history of folklore professor was incredibly hard to please, and despite her many attempts to impress him with beautifully old tomes about yokai and priceless artifacts from her grandfather’s collection, nothing would please him but an absolutely perfect paper. Feeling more frustrated than accomplished, she saved the file and closed her laptop hurriedly and began throwing her books and assorted library survival gear into her backpack. As she was throwing on her jacket to leave the mostly empty library, she suddenly caught the unmistakable, unshakable feeling that she was being watched. With the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rising, she surreptitiously glanced around the airy, bright room. Most of the computer desks were abandoned, except for a small group of guys watching car videos, and the stacks and stacks of books and journals were usually empty except for the occasional staff worker reshelving books. 

Telling herself she was overtired and hungry, she quickly zipped up her jacket and grabbed her bag. She heard a giggle from a few feet behind her.

She spun around, looking for the source. 

There was no one there. 

A pair of young looking students-- _ babies, they’re probably freshmen _ \--a few tables away popped their heads up from their books to give her a weird look. But no one else was around. 

Taki gulped, adjusted her bag on her shoulder, and quickly hurried out.  _ No time for real yokai nonsense right now _ , she thought, glancing down at a text from Sasada.  _ I have better things to do. _

\---

The blonde-haired, lanky man lounged on the hotel sofa. His suite was quite spacious and tastefully designed, but it wasn't at the end of the hall, like he had specifically requested. Despite its lavish furnishings, expensively modern decor, and its notoriety for A-list celebrity guests, the hotel was shockingly dismissive of guest requests, he thought. Flicking casually through a stack of loose sheets of paper, each with odd squiggles on them, he sighed. It was late. And time to begin.

He sat up, swinging his legs off the couch and setting them determinedly on the floor. A woman in a mask suddenly appeared, standing just off to the side of the couch.

"Are you ready to begin, Master?"

The man smiled, a glimmer of regret peeking through his eyes as he gazed at his servant yokai. Reaching into the breast pocket of his silk shirt, he pulled out a delicate pair of clear spectacles, and a lock of sandy blonde hair.

"I've already begun," Natori Shuuichi murmured, and the pages of paper scattered around the room.

And the room burst into flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I have no idea what university life is like in Tokyo, where this is based, so I’m just basing it off of American college culture. I apologize in advance *shrug emoji*)  
also as a general PSA: if y'all wanna yell at me, commiserate with me, send me memes, or just wanna chill, find me at gardenhearted over on tumblr :)


	2. history 101 with natsume and tanuma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yui throws Taki a birthday party. Some surprises aren't exactly appreciated, though.

The music was so loud Natsume could swear he could feel the bass thumping through every strand of his hair. 

The party was, according to Taki’s delightedly drunken visage, and the many party-goers’ atrocious dancing, a success. In the center of what once was the dining room for the history club house, Taki stood surrounded by a large yet odd assortment of folks: students from her folklore and literature studies classes, track jocks, med school track friends of Yui’s, and a scattering of architecture and engineering kids that Natsume had invited along. With several dozen drunken and midterms-stressed students, the creaky house just off-campus was putting in a brave effort staying standing.

Cutting through the crowd, Natsume made a beeline toward the kitchen. Grabbing a fresh cup and something cheap-looking, he poured himself a drink and took a gulp. He instantly grimaced, looking down at his cup. Was that vodka? Or gasoline? 

“Is it vodka, or is it gasoline? Either way, it’ll get the job done.”

Natsume looked up at a friendly, albeit slightly drunk, friend of Taki’s. The guy towered over Natsume, an intimidating presence with broad shoulders and a sun-tanned face. 

“Sasaki,” he offered like an afterthought to his last statement. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m Natsume, I think we met once at one of Taki’s history club events…? You’re, uh…” Natsume gazed up at the stern, weather-worn face, slowly eyeballing the guy’s muscled upperarms straining at his white tshirt. “...uh, on the track team?”

“Haha nah, baseball,” Sasaki suddenly chuckled, his face creasing into a smile. “I’m just one of Taki’s adopted jocks.” 

_ For such a large fellow, he had a bit of a baby face when he laughed.  _

An awkward pause. Natsume’s mind raced for a witticism, something to fill the gap between them. He sipped his cup, instantly regretting the burn through his esophagus. “For such a history nerd, Taki sure seems to know a wide variety of people on campus…”

“Right? But don’t call it that…”

“Yeah, right? Don’t call it history, she’ll smack you and say--”

“Folklore!” 

“-folklore!”

They both laughed. Maybe it was the alcohol starting to work. Sasaki put a calloused hand on Natsume’s shoulder and leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s shocking, right? How much she studies? That girl worries me--”

“With two majors and an accelerated Master's? I know. I’m so glad Yui organized this party for her to let loose a little--”

“Oh yeah? You know Yui too?”

“Yeah,” Natsume nodded in Yui’s direction, who was hovering at Taki’s elbow, laughing at something she had just said loudly over the blare of the music. “We had a few classes together freshman year. She tried to recruit me for track. We’re last minute cram-session buddies now.”

“She’s so great,” Sasaki said, shaking his head slowly. “But she really does try to recruit everyone for that damn track team.” He lowered his voice. “Pretty thing though. I tried to ask her out the first time I met her, practically begged her to marry me.” He let out another jovial chuckle.

Natsume rolled his eyes. This was another one of _ those _ guys. But he had also felt something in him--hoping--sink instantly and dissolve deep, deep in his gut. 

“Yeah, Yui’s pretty cool,” Natsume said half-heartedly into his cup. 

“But assertive! She told me to buzz off pretty nicely. But I can see why, she’s obviously got eyes for a certain overworked birthday girl.”

Over in the dining room, Yui had one hand on Taki’s elbow, and was leaning in, saying something into Taki’s ear. Taki laughed, and Yui looked like she just aced a biochem lab.

“But you know,” Sasaki said, pulling Natsume’s inquisitive eyes from Taki and Yui, “Taki seems to have all kinds of interesting friends.” 

Natsume’s eyes locked with Sasaki’s. 

“Tell me about yourself, Natsume-kun.”

\---

The room was fucking _packed_. Taki was laughing, this chick her roommate had brought from her modern media crit class was fucking bizarre but in a hilariously self-aware way, and she had never felt so loved or appreciated. When the laughter died down for a second, Taki cleared her throat to address anyone within earshot around her. 

“Uh, thanks guys, for coming. This means a lot to me. I had no idea I knew so many people on campus…” 

Her other roommate, Hana, smirked. “Yeah, right. I’m pretty sure you’ve had at least one conversation with every student at Tokyo Central…”

“Yah but that’s only because I’m expected to have at least five corroborating interviewees for every piece I write for the  _ Star _ …” 

“Good! Otherwise, with your imagination, you’d just make shit up about campus and we’d all  _ believe _ you!”

Everyone laughed, even Taki. It was no secret that Taki tended to pursue the more, er, esoteric stories for the school’s online news publication. So what? Someone had to cover the weird shit. Gods know, she was used to strange things. 

She suddenly wondered what happened to Natsume. He had been over here talking with her and some of the other track team members, and then wandered off...hopefully he didn’t see something...

Yui suddenly placed a delicate hand on her shoulder and raised herself up on her tiptoes to bring her lips close to Taki’s ear. 

“Did you know,” Yui said, loudly, because it was a party after all, but with a conspiratorial tone, “I’d believe you if you said these girls could go fuck off?”

Taki laughed, a short bark, and Yui grinned. Taki sensed something from Yui as her hand drifted down her shoulder, resting at the back of her upper arm. Taki was hyper-aware of it, feeling its warmth through the fabric of her light button down. Suddenly, she wished it wasn’t so loud in here. Suddenly, she wished she could just talk to Yui. 

Pushing those thoughts aside, she casually brushed off Yui’s hand, pretending not to see the hurt look that flashed across Yui’s face, and told some folks that she was headed to the bathroom. Cutting through the crowds, she went past the kitchen, spotting Natsume, cup in hand, laughing with some biiiiig dude--oh shit, Sasaki.  _ Nice, Natsume _ , she thought with a rueful smile. At least someone might have success in the romance department tonight. 

“Hey, Tooru.”

A voice in her ear caught her off-guard. 

Dark hair, dark glasses, bright red lipstick, curled, luscious lips. Soft skin, oh, how she knew--so soft it was unreal, touchably soft and so pale, almost translucent. The graceful curve of that neck, where an elegant hand brushed hair from her face. 

“Hey, Jun.”

\--

In high school, the bespectacled girl was often described as “plain” or a “goody two-shoes” or simply “normal”. But Taki knew the real Sasada Jun. The girl who cried and then raged and then researched when she realized a figure from her childhood was a spirit, someone she wouldn’t be able to befriend and share her life with. She was passionate where Taki was passive; Taki had always listened to her grandfather’s dying words,  _ let things be as they are.  _ But Jun was different: everything should be pried apart, examined, and explained. There was a reason she was studying law, with several internships, and always showing up at a professor’s office hours. She was the reason Taki had finally put her writing skills to use for the  _ Star _ her freshman year. 

But where Jun was great at dissecting everything, she was never as adept at putting it back together.

“Happy birthday, Tak-Tak,” Sasada said, leaning in for a hug. Taki embraced her, the old nickname bouncing around her brain like a ping-pong ball. 

“I’m so glad you made it,” Taki said as they pulled apart, with Taki wishing it had lasted longer. “I know traffic from downtown can be bad--”

“Oh it was no big deal,” Sasada said, giving her a sweet smile with that brilliant red lipstick. She was wearing a figure-hugging red dress, and Taki had to consciously resist the urge to snake her arm around that tiny waist. Like the old days. 

Whatever pining Taki was feeling for Sasada, the latter hadn’t noticed. “TMU is a pain but the commute is easy. Plus, there’s no way I would pass up a reunion with the high school folks. Oh, and I brought someone I ran into,” Sasada said, turning away to look at the door. A tall, lanky guy had just walked in behind Sasada. His back was turned to them as he said something to a guy at the door, and she saw jet-black hair, pulled up into a low bun. As he turned to face them, he gave Taki a solemn nod. She grinned, and rushed up to throw herself at the lean figure. He only smiled as he held her tightly in a hug.

She pulled away to look up at him. “Did you get even taller? Oh my god! And look at the man-bun! I can’t with you--” she said, trying to reach his hair in vain as he feinted avoidance. “Kaname-kun, it’s been ages…”

“Happy birthday, Tooru-kun,” he said, in his gentle, low voice. She hadn’t realized how much she missed her childhood friend and their first-name basis. Especially with her old feelings for Jun resurfacing, his presence was a reassuring constant. 

He pulled away, reaching into the inner pocket of his ratty bomber jacket. “A little something to celebrate…”

“You  _ didn’t _ !” Taki exclaimed, practically hopping in place with excitement. He handed it to her and she started carefully unwrapping the simple brown paper. 

The contents: Local Lore and Legends of the Hitoyoshi Castle Ruins: An Anthology.

“Oh. My. God. You didn’t.” 

Sasada and Tanuma shared a knowing smile, as Taki began leafing through the yellowed book, the blasting party music and drunken crowd in the apartment completely forgotten. 

With Taki completely rapt, Sasada caught Tanuma looking around apprehensively. 

“You know, Tanuma-kun, he’s probably here…”

Tanuma scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. “I guess I should leave then, before he spots me…”

Taki raised her head from the book. “He’s in the kitchen, you idiot. Go talk to him.” Ignoring a scathing look from Sasada, she continued. “It’s about time you two made up. It’s been over a year. Go be an adult and talk to him.”

Did Tanuma’s stoic demeanor reveal a little embarrassment? It was hard to tell. Taki shooed him off, and with an amused Sasada in tow, wandered downstairs to the basement to get a better look at the book somewhere away from the music.

\--

Standing a head above most people in the crowd, Tanuma felt out of place. Granted, he almost always felt out of place. The only time he felt like he belonged was when he was at the shrine, with the smell of floor polish and incense, his father’s gentle chanting in the background, and the sense of the woods, standing guard around their tiny home. 

Choosing to follow in his father’s footsteps was a decision that felt less like his own, and more like the one he was meant to make. Especially with the things he had seen, or rather, felt. Deciding to go to Kogakkan to study to become a  _ kannushi  _ like his father was necessary. But he knew he wouldn’t be gone long. He felt tied to the shrine, to home. 

Unlike Natsume. Who couldn’t wait to get away.

Carefully moving through the crowd, Tanuma made his way through the apartment, half-heartedly looking for the kitchen. More than anything, he just wanted to find some air, step outside, grab a cigarette.  _ A filthy habit _ , he remembered Natsume’s voice saying, teasingly, in his ear. A habit he had picked up at the end of high school. When he and Natsume had spent more time together than apart. His fingers itched to pull out a pack. Sudden memories flashed through his mind. Pale fingers, gently pulling the cigarette from his mouth, replacing it with thin, chilled lips. He forced those memories down, reflexively, down into the base of his neck. 

He reached into his jeans pocket and touched the cigarette pack.  _ It’s just the anxiety. It’s just the paranoia. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’ll be okay.  _ His senses were still sharp. He knew something had followed him and Sasada to the apartment. Something with a big shadow, something that had the fluttering sound of wings. Something that smelled...like rain. 

He felt an invisible tugging sensation on the back of his head, like someone was grabbing his bun and yanking it gently. He turned. No one was there, but across the crowded room, he saw a large, sunburnt guy talking to a shorter, thin, pale guy in torn jeans and a band tshirt. Unearthly blonde hair, golden eyes, and an unsettling aura. Their eyes caught. Natsume.

\---

Natsume was laughing at something Sasaki said, enjoying whatever was in his cup, when he felt a tapping on his hand. He looked down to see a small, squirrel-like yokai tugging on his free hand, pointing across the room. Tiny weak ones were typical of the city, and Natsume almost ignored it. But it seemed so earnest. Looking up in the direction it was pointing, he looked over Sasaki’s shoulder, and his eyes spotted yet another ghost. Tanuma.

He threw his cup down, muttering something about the bathroom in Sasaki’s general direction, and shouldered his thin frame out of the kitchen. He had lost his ghost. Frantically searching, he spotted a tall, dark man bun stepping out the back door to the porch. Natsume followed, throwing the door open to a gust of chilly, damp autumn night air.

His heart sank. The porch was empty.

“Hey.”

Natsume turned, looking across the porch. A shadow, barely visible in the dark backdrop against the blare of sound and glare of lights from the party. The shadow stepped forward, and Natsume could read a thousand things in the familiar but strange face: uncertainty, apprehension. Exhaustion.

Seeing Tanuma’s exhausted face tugged at something in his gut. He wanted to run his hands over those tired eyes, and cradle that head into a deep, slow sleep.

“Hey yourself,” Natsume breathed, realizing he had been practically gasping for breath. He self-consciously ran a hand through his pale hair. “How’ve you, uh, been?” 

“I’ve been better,” Tanuma said, stepping closer. Natsume realized he was barely a step away now, and looked up. His hair had grown out longer. Natsume didn’t want to admit how good Tanuma looked with his hair tied up in the bun. His jaw seemed sharper, like he’d lost weight, but his shoulders seemed broader, bigger in some way. He had bags under his eyes. He looked older. 

Natsume caught himself gawking like some starstruck child, and pulled his eyes away, back toward the party. “So you came to see Taki on her birthday, that’s nice…”

“Yeah. Some of us go out of our way to see the people we care about.”

Natsume felt like he should flinch, but he didn’t. He waited.

“Sorry, that was...immature,” Tanuma sighed. Natsume remembered how deep and gentle his voice sounded, even when he was angry. He missed it. “It’s just been a stressful week. You know, with dad and midterms and everything…”

“How is he doing?”

Tanuma sighed again, and shoved his hands into his pockets. He pulled out a smashed cigarette pack, carefully selected one, lit it with a flick of a cheap plastic lighter, and unceremoniously brought it to his lips. After a long draw, he released a stream of smoke, out over the balcony into the street. 

“He’s not great. The chilly cold air doesn’t agree with him. You know how it gets colder faster in the mountains back home. And my commute is so long back from school, I feel bad just leaving him all day…”

“Yeah,” Natsume nodded, suddenly affronted with the last image he had of Tanuma’s father, pressing money into his hand as he said goodbye before leaving for university.  _ Some spending money, for something fun, don’t spend it on your studies _ . His kind, knowing smile. His frail goodbye hug, as Natsume left for the train. The feeling that he had been adopted by yet another kind adult, who he still hadn’t returned to thank.

“I miss him, for sure. And everybody back home.” 

“Do you?”

Natsume snapped his head up. “Of course I do!”

“Then why haven’t you been back?”

Natsume’s breath caught. He tried to form words; only anger spit up in his mouth. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Understand  _ what? _ What won’t I understand?”

“You just won’t--”

“This is what you said back then! Like it’s something I wouldn’t get! Is it about the yokai--you know I still see them even now that you’re--

“I’m what? What, exactly?

“Gone! And not coming back! And determined not to come back!

“It’s not like that!

“Oh yeah? Then why haven’t you come back? Even once? To see the Fujiwaras? To see dad? To see--”

“You  _ know  _ why!’

Natsume hadn’t realized when he had started shouting, but he was inches from Tanuma’s face, shouting up at him. 

“Because I wasn’t enough?”

“No--”

“Then tell me,” Tanuma said, angrily turning away. He grasped the porch railing, looking out across the tiny street, quiet except for an occasional car. “Or don’t. See if I care.” 

Natsume knew this about him. How stubborn he was. How determined he was to try to make something still work, even when it was irreparably broken.

“There’s so many reasons…”

The Fujiwaras. How their garage had burned down his last year of high school, a strange yokai setting fire to the old timbers and dancing as the ashes took to the air. The almost-empty Book of Friends, with one last name in it, refusing to go back to its owner. Tanuma’s gentle reassurances, his warm hands on his shoulders as Natsume introduced him to all his yokai friends late one moonlit evening, now that Tanuma could see things, just a _ little _ more clearly--part of getting so close with Natsume, Madara had said. Tanuma’s father, a sickly, bent shape tending to the small garden at the shrine, the mysterious illness eating his body, as Tanuma rushed to finish his studies and take over the shrine so his father could retire. 

The overwhelming melancholy of belonging to something. The pressure of being made of flame, and trying to hold onto a scrap of paper. 

“If you wanted to get away so badly, you should've just told me sooner. Then I wouldn’t…”

“Do you regret it?”

Tanuma looked him dead in the eyes. “Regret what?”

“Being with me?”

\--

Second year of high school. Late summer shadows, drifting and warping as the tall grass swayed in the wind. The gentle trickle of the river. They were laughing--Natsume had been tripped again by a mischievous yokai, muddying his shirt. He had thrown it off, and laughing, Tanuma had splashed him with river water, which had turned into a full throttle water fight. Soaking wet to the bone and exhausted, they had sat at the river’s edge until the sun went down, and the cool mountain night air seeped up from the water. Wordlessly, Natsume had taken Tanuma’s hand. The warmth of their skin touching was invigorating, impossibly necessary. After a beat, Tanuma had put his arm around Natsume’s bare waist, and pulled him closer, breathing in his river water skin and burying his face in his moonlit pale hair. And they had kissed, so gingerly, so carefully, like they were scared the moon was watching. 

Alone together, by the riverside, they had spent the night together, finally saying the unsaid that had lingered just out of eyesight.

\--

“Nevermind. Forget I said anything. Forget I was here. Tell Taki, I hope she enjoys the book.” Tanuma threw down the half-smoked cigarette, grinding it beneath a muddy boot and turning back toward the house.

“Wait--” Natsume gasped, reaching out to grab the sleeve of Tanuma’s jacket. Tanuma looked down at him, a hollowness in his eyes that Natsume instantly recognized like a stab in the gut.  _ This is what I must have looked like, back then.  _ Desperate for the right words to be said. Desperately longing to be wanted, to hear someone say it.

Natsume reached up and cupped Tanuma’s face in his hands. “I don’t regret it, if that matters. I don’t regret it at all.” 

Tanuma looked at him for a moment, his eyes searching for something in his. He gently took Natsume’s wrists and pulled his hands from his face, looking down at the ground. He shook his head. 

“I know I was asking a lot then, from you. You have so much going on. I know it’s complicated. But I thought...you know? I thought you would give it a real chance. I thought...” He pulled away and went back to the door. He glanced back one last time, locking eyes with Natsume. “Fuck what I thought. I don’t regret it. I just need to get over it.” 

The party’s cacophony suddenly seeped out into the night air as the door slid open, and then faded as it shut behind the tall figure as it melted back into the crowded party. Natsume stood there, silently, fists clenching and unclenching, words snatched from his throat like he had gambled them away, long ago. 

_ I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want anybody to get hurt. I didn’t want to leave. I had to. Please. Please, come back. Please. I still...I still… _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey babes you *know* I had to make that angsty. And yes, there is a metric shit ton of angst to come. Buckle up buttercups, Natsume and Tanuma have some ~*~*~*~trauma~*~*~*~ to work through! 
> 
> I'm not really an experienced writer but I've wanted to write a Yujinchou fic for ages, so bear with me if you've read this far, and please offer suggestions! 
> 
> also, fair warning, Taki might be getting a bit of a ---birthday gift--- next chapter so, uh, don't read this in public I guess


	3. english literature 202 with taki and sasada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasada and Taki talk about English Literature. (But that's not all they do with their mouths.)

A perfectly manicured, glossy nail ran along the book spines on the shelf.  
Sasada was humming something indecipherable to herself as she walked through the small room, Taki’s bookshelf catching her attention immediately. As Sasada went to examine the titles, Taki closed her bedroom door behind them, and tried to sit on her bed as casually as possible. The music from the party upstairs was muffled, but clearly audible. She picked up her book again--Local Lore and Legends of the Hitoyoshi Castle Ruins: An Anthology--and attempted to read a few sentences. But her eyes kept betraying her, wandering up to look across her room at Sasada as the tall, elegant woman perused her shelves.  
Sasada seemed oblivious to the uncertainty hanging in the room, carefully reading the name of each book as her finger ran along the titles. She stopped, and carefully slid out a small hardcover book, with words printed in English along the front, with an old-timey illustration on the cover of a woman in Edwardian dress standing before a kneeling man.

“You never did read this, did you?”  
Taki nearly jumped at the words, lowering her book and looking over to see her English copy of Pride and Prejudice in Sasada’s hands.  
“Actually, I did.”  
“What did you think?”

Taki tried to pick her words diplomatically. It’s a cautionary tale more than a real romance. It’s a romanticization of the heteronormative norms of their strict society, ultimately--because any rebellion against them is eventually quashed and superceded when everyone gets happily married. Lizzie represents a minority of women that actively questioned and rebelled against these norms, and her “romance” with Darcy reinforces the notion that persistence, wealth, and social standing can sway a woman out of her values. Moreoever, Darcy’s elitism is never truly resolved, which portrays the wealthiest faction of society as never facing consequences for their bigoted ideals--

She gave up.  
“Actually, Lizzie is an idiot. I can’t believe she actually decided to marry a man who was more concerned about his social position than how he treated the woman he loved. Sure, it’s romantic and all, eventually deciding to put your loved one before what anyone else thinks, but really? If that’s how he thought of her, what other problems will they have down the line once they married? If he thinks your family’s trash and is embarrassed to be seen with you, that’s not just gonna disappear overnight...can you imagine the Christmases? Lizzie deserved better…”  
Taki trailed off, realizing the unintentional flood of words she had unleashed on Sasada. But Sasada only looked amused, as she sidled over to Taki’s bed and sat beside her.  
Close.  
So close their thighs were brushing.  
Sasada opened to a page and read a passage.

  
“‘If you will thank me,’ he replied, ‘let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you, might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe, I thought only of you.’  
Elizabeth was much too embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion added, ‘You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.’”

  
Sasada inhaled in a self-satisfied way.  
“You don’t think that’s romantic?”  
“No,” Taki said, stubbornly, although she already knew she was going to lose this argument.  
Sasada was perfect for law: she always knew how to go right to the source, pull the most relevant info out, and mold her argument around it. She could wrap anyone around her elegant, perfectly-shaped fingers.  
Sasada closed the book with a gentle snap, and let it fall gently to the floor beside the bed. She leaned in, her face inches from Taki’s. “So then, professor, please enlighten me…” She leaned forward, placing one hand over Taki’s, and the other on Taki’s thigh.  
“What is the true nature of romance?”  
Taki could feel Sasada’s warm, sweet breath on her face, her hooded eyes gazing down softly at her. With her free hand, Taki reached up, and tucked a loose strand of Sasada’s dark hair behind her delicate ear.  
“Romance, is…” she breathed, realizing Sasada’s face was pulling closer, her breath fogging up Sasada’s glasses.  
“...dead.”  
Such soft lips quenched some thirst in her, like she hadn’t tasted water in weeks.  
Sasada pulled at her, her dainty hands running up Taki’s thighs to her waist, to her shoulders and then her breasts. Sasada unbuttoned Taki’s shirt effortlessly, tearing it open to reveal just Taki’s bra. Urgently and heatedly, Sasada kissed down Taki’s neck--causing Taki to let out the tiniest gasp of surprise, as she smoothed her hands over Sasada’s hair and shoulder blades.  
Suddenly, she was on her back, with Sasada on top of her, her tiny thighs spreading her short dress to reveal a flash of the black panties underneath. Sasada pulled herself upright, and Taki reached out with a groan of desire, not wanting it to stop.  
“If romance is dead, then I won’t give you romance.”  
Taki smirked, slightly out of breath. “I know. I’ll take my chances.”  
Leaning in, slowly, ever so slowly, Sasada locked eyes with Taki, her hands tracing up Taki’s hips and stomach, to her breasts. She reached behind Taki and unhooked her bra, pulling it away from Taki’s hot skin.  
Can she hear my heart racing? Does she know-- is this okay-- what if someone comes in -- please let her do that thing with her mouth --  
Sasada’s lips on her breast stopped any rational thought and Taki groaned again, more of a whimper. Sasada smirked into Taki’s skin, tracing shapes with her tongue.  
“Fuck...Sasada…”  
Sasada began slowly kissing lower, and lower.  
She got to her hips, and undid the button and zipper of Taki’s jeans, pulling them down with Taki’s underwear and flinging them off unceremoniously.  
“You’re already so wet,” Sasada said in a husky voice, gazing at Taki with hooded eyes. Taki tried to say something in a tangled voice, the heat and pulse in her groin almost unbearable. “It’s been so long, but here’s to another year, right?”

Sweet, sweet kiss. With her mouth on her, Sasada lifted up Taki’s thighs. Taki’s hips bucked, her heart racing--words completely foreign to her, Taki could just moan, gripping the bed sheets and biting her lip as Sasada ferociously sucked on her clit and ran her tongue over her opening. She lost all sense of control, with Sasada’s head between her legs, she reached down to clutch at Sasada’s hair, mentally, trying telepathically to scream: don’t stop. Oh god, I worship you. Dont stop.  
Minutes, hours, days--she had no idea how time was passing, if it even was. If time suddenly stopped and the world ended right here and now, she wouldn’t give a damn.  
White flashed behind her eyes and her whole body buckled, and Taki gasped as her whole body seized for one moment-- then relaxed. As she came down from the immense climax, she found herself gasping for air, not realizing how long she had been holding her breath.  
Sasada kissed the inside of Taki’s thigh, looking up at her with a sly smile. She pulled herself up and around to sit beside Taki, smoothing her hair.  
As Taki’s heart slowed, she glanced out of the corner of her eye at Sasada. Catching her look, Sasada locked eyes with her.  
“Do you want me to--”  
Sasada shushed her with a single finger, and with a teasing smile, she lowered one strap of her dress...then the other. With exacerbating, wickedly slow motions, she unzipped the back of her dress, and in one motion, whipped it off, revealing matching black panties and a low cut black bra.  
Taki took that as a yes.

\--  
The damp heat. The sweet sensation.Taki found her rhythm and continued, gently making a come hither motion as she reinforced the motion with the steady thrust of her hips. Sasada whimpered, a sexy little sound that made Taki want to kiss her, hard. She pulled out her fingers and bent down, kissing and suckling on Sasada, making her gasp out and moan.  
“Tooru...please...harder...AH--”  
Sasada gasped again as Taki reentered her with two fingers, stroking her insides. Remembering what Sasada had liked that last time...she pressed up against her gspot, and with her other hand, pulled up around her damp, dark pubic hair to fiercely suck on her clit.  
Sasada spasmed, thrusting her hips skyward, slowly bucking them again and again, slower each time, until she settled back on the bed. Taki gently removed her fingers, and gripping her lover’s thighs, kissed up the inside of them, savoring the hint of sweat and salt on her skin.  
Taki laid down next to her, and wrapped her arms around Sasada’s damp skin. At some point Sasada had lost her glasses, or taken them off, or something, and she groped around to find them, eventually putting them on. Untangling herself from Taki’s arms, she sat up, beginning to grab her dress.  
Taki was confused. Why is she leaving. What’s going on. I thought-- she came all this way-- she had changed her mind--  
“Where are you going?” Taki blurted, somewhat more plaintively than she intended to sound. Sasada took off her glasses and polished the lenses in that neat, efficient way that she always did.  
“I’m getting dressed and going back out there. It’s been too long. We don’t want anyone thinking we were doing anything in here.”  
Why not, Taki thought, still immobile. She just wanted to wrap her arms around Sasada and pull her close and stay there the rest of the night. Like they used to.  
“I thought...well, that this…that this was…”  
“Was what?” Sasada said, standing up to adjust her bra. “This was just a little trip down memory lane, for old time’s sake.” She turned, and seeing Taki’s expression, sighed. “Taki, we’ve talked about this.”  
“I know,” Taki said, quietly. She remembered Sasada’s words, the last time they had spoken in person. It’s just not right, she had said, in such a sweet and logical way, that Taki knew it had to be the truth she was speaking. I can’t do this with you, publicly. No one can know.  
“But things are...different? Now? Right ...?” Taki tried, pulling up the bedsheet to cover herself, suddenly self-conscious.  
Sasada gave her a look, over her glasses. “Really? How?” She reached down and grabbed Taki’s underwear and jeans, and flung them over to her side of the bed. “Last time I checked, I’m still trying to become a respected lawyer. Then a diplomat. A relationship just wouldn’t be…”  
“You mean a relationship with me,” Taki said, trying to mask the bitterness in her voice. She jumped up, suddenly ambivalent, and pulled on her underwear and jeans.  
Sasada zipped up her dress somehow, and stepped over to Taki, looking up at her with those big, beautifully dark eyes. Her lipstick wasn’t smeared, but definitely faded. “Not just you. Any woman.”  
“But it’s 2019,” Taki said, reaching down to button up her shirt. Sasada reached over and buttoned it for her.  
“Sure, but it would just make life...easier, you know?” Sasada said. She pulled on her pumps and went over to the door. “I’m not the marrying type anyway, you know that.”  
Taki reached over her and opened the door, still peeved. Thoughts she thought she had silenced a long time ago were swelling and exploding unheeded in her brain. Not gonna happen. Never getting married. Not wanting to be the token lesbian of the firm. Limiting opportunities. Burning bridges. Explaining to friends and parents. Hassle, trouble, not worth it. Not worth it.  
With another argument on her lips, Taki opened the door. Standing there, with wide eyes and a hand poised to knock, was Yui. Her mouth ajar, she looked at Taki with surprise, and then her eyes shifted to Sasada, behind her.  
Brushing past Taki, Sasada made a show of pulling up her dress straps and smoothing the fabric. She locked eyes with Yui, and smirking, turned to Taki. She tapped the corner of Taki’s mouth with one elegant hand before turning, smirking again at Yui, and walked languidly down the hall towards the party, leaving Taki standing there with Yui.  
Taki’s hand went to her mouth, and it came away with a red smudge. Lipstick. She hadn’t been wearing any. She looked at Yui, whose face was part shock, part bemusement.  
“Want a drink?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh yeah, you thought only Natsume and Tanuma had some angst...whelp. I promise there is a happy ending to all this, for everyone involved...if I eventually get to it *upside down smiley emoji*


	4. anatomy 104 with natsume and natori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend summons Natsume to his new home.

Yui didn’t know what to expect. What to want. What she had been hoping for. But she had gone down to that basement bedroom, having heard from one of Taki’s roommates that she had gone down there a while ago. Yui was worried for a few minutes--maybe Taki was throwing up from drinking too much, or maybe she had just needed a moment of peace amongst the chaos. 

Whatever it was, Yui wanted to be there for her. She wanted to show her--tell her--express in any way--that she wanted to make sure she was okay.

The expression on Taki’s face when she opened her own bedroom door before Yui could knock was, well...annoyed. Annoyed at the other girl in the bedroom with her. But a familiar kind of annoyance, one that inspired an instant ping of suspicion in Yui’s mind even if the smear of lipstick on Taki’s mouth did not speak a thousand words. (Taki had never once worn lipstick all freshman year--Yui had seen her bathroom, and she knew for a fact that Taki absolutely did not own a tube of lipstick.) That, paired with the tall, elegant girl’s smirk...it was the kind of annoyance that couples had when they bickered about which brand of toilet paper to buy at the grocery store. Familiarity. History.

It was a sickening realization in Yui’s throat.

All this time, she had let something grow in her chest. Something deep, dark, quiet. But it had seemed so bright, even brighter still when she had asked Natsume whether Taki was in a relationship, and he shrugged. She had let it grow too much. It had unfurled, right between her lungs, as she launched into the discussion with Taki’s roommates and all her friends to plan this surprise party. 

That deep, dark, quiet something, unfurling in her chest--she stomped it down. She ground it down beneath her heel, like a cigarette butt still burning. 

Standing there in the hall, Taki looked at Yui expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“Y-yeah, let’s...do that…”

Yui followed Taki. Taki was rubbing the cuff of her sleeve on the corner of her mouth, trying to rub off the tell-tale smear of red 

_ That’s gonna leave a stain,  _ Yui thought. 

\--

Natsume stood outside. If someone was watching him from the house, they’d see a skinny kid in skater clothes, standing in the early autumn chill, his back illuminated by the lights of the party inside seeping out through the windows. They would see pale hair, barely moving in the slightest breeze. They would see the cigarette on the ground, a glimmer of an ember fading in its crumpled heap.

They wouldn’t see his face. 

They wouldn’t know that he let his normal mask fall away. They wouldn’t know how close to tears he was, standing there alone in the dark.

The sound of something rustling caught his attention. 

Out of the darkness, something white came flapping up to the edge of the porch.  _ A bird? A pigeon?  _

It stood at attention before him. Except for the strange characters sloppily drawn upon it with calligraphy ink, it almost looked like a paper doll--something a small child would make in preschool. Stepping closer tentatively, he peered closer. His face relaxed as he recognized the shape.

Extending an open palm, he allowed it to gracefully float over and land in his hand. He flipped it over to read the message:  _ Natsume. Come see me.  _ Below the short message was an address, barely a few blocks from his campus dorm.

He sighed, letting the air out of his lungs that he hadn’t realized he had been holding. 

\---

Natsume knocked on the cold, white door of the apartment. It was probably around 4 in the morning, as he had lingered at the party for a few more hours after Tanuma’s departure. It had been nice catching up with Sasada, but the night had felt hollow and soured after the argument on the porch. Yui had been acting strange, and it was obvious Sasada and Taki were all over each other. He sighed. It made him miss the good old days, back then, in their tiny hometown…

As he approached the address in Natori’s message, he was not surprised at all to find a swanky apartment complex, a new division put up sometime in the last few years not too far from his own dorm house. He tried not to ogle. Plush carpet and marble floors, with modern, white light fixtures and stark hallways. It was brand new, but its cleanliness and uber-modernity felt clinical. 

The door to the apartment swung open, and Natsume was face-to-face, or rather, mask-to-face, with a familiar sight. The shiki stepped aside as Natsume entered. 

“Hey, Hiiragi. Long time no see.”

He gazed around the apartment. It was really more of a large, luxurious condo--as he walked into an open hallway into a sitting room, he had a large, spacious kitchen to his left with sparkling brand new appliances and granite countertops. To his right, the sitting room expanded into a dining room, with a huge window looking out over treetops and the winding neighborhoods around the university.

But the place looked barely lived-in. He only saw evidence of another person when he spotted a pair of expensive-looking driving moccasins by the door as he removed his own shoes, and put on a pair of slippers Hiiragi wordlessly handed him.

Annoyed, Natsume wandered in. 

“Hey-o! Over here, Takashi-kun.”

Natsume turned to see a head poking out from a doorway further down the hall. Shaggy dirty blonde hair and stark red eyes grinned at him. 

“Give me one second, then I’ll be out.”

Natsume heard something like a scuffle, then the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, and then the shuffling of papers. Natori emerged, dressed only in a light summer robe and slippers, holding a stack of yellowed papers...and smelling faintly of...a bonfire?

Natsume rolled his eyes, ignored Natori’s outstretched arms, and went to the fridge. He opened it to find nothing but a half-empty bottle of ketchup inside. “How do you  _ live _ like this?” Natsume demanded, into the fridge.

He heard Natori chuckle behind him. “It really is a wonder. Although for once I’m glad to see I’m not the one stumbling in reeking of cheap booze. If only…” he trailed off, and Natsume turned to see him throw himself onto the couch with an elegant sigh of exhaustion, crossing his legs as he sorted through pages of paper. “If only I had a live-in cook and housekeeper, who also happened to be a local university student…”

“I don’t need a sugar daddy,” Natsume hissed, slamming the fridge door closed.

“Aww, don’t be a petulant child. You know I just miss you terribly when I’m away on assignment.” 

Natsume didn’t respond, instead focused on scrounging for a snack through Natori’s bare cupboards.

“...well, in that case, I guess I’ll just keep this amazing discovery to myself…”

“So you did find something? You didn’t just summon me here because you’re bored?”

Natori’s eyes glimmered. “Well, that too. But I think you’ll like the look of this.” He held out a cracked sheet of paper, so yellow it looked like it might crumble at a single touch. 

Natsume sat down on the couch next to him and took it. It was a series of symbols, some handwriting too faded to read, and an illustration. 

The illustration was hand-drawn, and shakily, like whoever had drawn it was experiencing tremors so extreme that their hands couldn’t hold still. It was birdlike, but without a beak; dark feathers, covering every inch, but no indication of wings; and it had countless, beady little eyes. 

Even without hearing him say it, Natori could tell by Natsume’s expression that he recognized it.

The yokai that had cursed Tanuma’s father. 

“Natori...how...where…”

“It’s a secret,” Natori said, with a beamingly-bright smile--surely the same one he practiced in front of the mirror in his trailer for every movie shoot. Natsume was unfazed.

“What did it come from, a book? Do they talk about what it is, how to break--”

The blonde exorcist shook his head and his flowery smile faded, into something softer. He took the page back, and placed it on top of the stack of the rest of the papers on the coffee table. 

“It’s all that survives of a book that was rescued from a fire at a former Matoba estate.”

Natsume’s breath caught.  _ The Matoba’s? _

Natori looked at him like he could read his mind. “Fortunately, from the rest of this text, it doesn’t seem like the Matoba are directly related to this yokai. Rather, someone in the Matoba clan had heard a tale from a traveler about this yokai, and they recorded what they heard.” 

Despite his unshakeable fear of the Matoba clan, who consistently attempted to recruit him several times a year, Natsume felt disappointed.  _ Isn’t there something more they could tell us?  _

“Anything else?”

Natori smiled again--oh, this was his shit-eating grin. Natsume just wanted to smack him, right in that perfectly-chiseled jaw.

“Even if there was, what will you give me for it?”

Nastume leaned in, a hair’s breadth from Natori’s ear. 

“Tell me what you want.” 

\--

They had ended up tangled up on Natori’s bed, the obviously-expensive sheets crumbled and abandoned on the floor. As Natsume rested his head on Natori’s bare chest, he listened to his heartbeat. It had been erratically fast, mere minutes ago, but it was starting to slow. 

He was always conflicted over this, whatever this was--a first crush, a frenemy. Pining and annoyance and romance all in one. He suddenly wanted to kiss him again, right on the jaw he had wanted to smack him on just a little while earlier, if only as a mental apology. He looked up into Natori’s face only to see Natori gazing down right back at him.

There was a surprising tenderness in his eyes. 

“Are you worried?”

Natori didn’t seem to have expected that question, but he considered it only for a moment. 

“No, I don’t think so. It’s you, after all. And you’re shockingly strong when it comes down to it.” Natori began stroking Natsume’s pale hair, splayed across his chest and shoulder and sticking to the sweat on both their skin. “But I don’t want to lose you.”

Natsume was confused. “If it could hurt me, don’t you think it would have done it by now?”

Natori’s research and interrogations of other yokai in the area had revealed a startling revelation: a young woman, by the name of Reiko, had taken the name of a yokai that had looked just like this illustration. 

And for all Natsume’s efforts over the years, a single name had remained in the Book of Friends. One yokai, who hadn’t come to find Natsume and request their name’s return. Or so they had thought. 

“No, that’s true. And the curse is strong, but no curse is unbreakable.” He hesitated. As Natsume looked up at Natori’s face, he saw the telltale lizard tattoo scuttle across his collarbone, disappearing around one shoulder blade. “But I think there’s a reason. A reason why it’s the last name in the Book.”

Natsume was silent. He had moved his head back down, and Natori thought maybe he had fallen asleep. But after a few minutes, Natsume’s voice, muffled against his chest, startled him.

“I’m going to break that curse.”

Natori pressed his face to Natsume’s hair. It smelled like autumn leaves, chilled night air, and strong booze. 

“You will. You’re so stubborn.” He chuckled. “But that’s what I’ve always loved about you.”

_ Loved. Loved. Loved.  _

Natsume snuggled his head into Natori’s chest. “Shut up and let me sleep, old man.”

Natsume could practically hear the smirk on Natori’s face. “Good night, Takashi-kun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize this is not a very college-y au so far but I *promise* there will be mention of classes, homework, existential panic...ya know, college stuff


	5. Chapter 5

Yui checked her phone. Nothing. 

She tapped her mechanical pencil on notebook, its pages scrawled with color-coded notes, diagrams, and charts. Her textbooks were stacked precariously on her desk--not in order by subject, like they usually were. The slides on her laptop screen went unnoticed. Yui checked her phone again.

Nothing.

It’s not that she was expecting some kind of explanation--really, it was just  _ something _ . Her mind kept boomeranging back to the night before...the mean girl’s smirk as she adjusted her dress, the smear of red lipstick...and the way Taki had seemed distant the rest of the night, after the mean girl had left. Sasada. That’s what Natsume had called her. 

Taki had to have known that Yui was the one that organized the party, invited all her friends, talked to her roommates, and ensured there would be plenty of booze and snacks.

But she had yet to get a thank you. Or even some specific word of acknowledgement. 

Yui rubbed her tired eyes. The party had finally died down around 4am, which is fine, because it was a Friday night. After leaving Taki’s around 5, she had stumbled home and fallen asleep for a few precious hours before rousing herself to jump back into her usual weekend study and workout schedule. But she had a long weekend of studying ahead of her. Biochem midterm on Monday, organic chem lab and an anatomy presentation on Tuesday, microbio on Wednesday...not to mention the track meet was this week...she had to get up early on Monday for practice…

Yui gritted her teeth and tapped her pencil harder. This was gonna be a tough week. 

Suddenly her phone pinged. She grabbed it expectantly, only to feel let down when she saw it was a message from Sasaki, the baseball guy. 

Sasaki: hey do u have natsume’s number?

She sighed.  _ Some people have it so easy.  _

\--

Taki was barely conscious when she realized, sleepily, that something was poking her in the face. Rolling over, she reached for her covers--but when he hand didn’t find them, she groped for a few minutes blindly, refusing to sit up and open her eyes. She reached out--and suddenly she was on the floor.

Blinking miserably, she realized she had fallen off the couch onto the floor. An empty beer can had apparently served as her pillow last night, and a mostly-empty bag of potato chips nearby explained the sensation of something poking her as she slept.

Looking around, she glumly realized the place was not nearly as trashed as she thought it would be. Glancing at the clock--noon already, huh--she wondered suddenly if someone had tried to clean up some last night. Bags of trash were packed and tied in the kitchen, the counters wiped, and the recycle bin was filled with bottles and beer cans. Natsume, maybe?

She had a fairly blurry recollection of the night before, after Sasada’s little birthday gift--she remembered how miserable Natsume had looked after Tanuma left, how she had encouraged everyone to do shots, how quiet Yui was, how she had another round of shots, how Sasada had her arms around her all night, how she might've had another round of shots…

She immediately went and drank a large glass of water, then another. The pain behind her eyes informed her curtly that she most likely did drink a third a round of shots. 

_ I’m getting too old for this _ .

\--

After an hour of clean up, the rest of the place looked just about as tidy as it could be expected. 

Taki took a moment to sip her black coffee, revelling in the quiet with her roommates out. It was so peaceful.

She thought of Sasada’s giggle last night. The same old look in her eyes, as she ceaselessly mocked everyone around her, laughing at their expense. Taki always laughed with her. She vaguely remembered Sasada gesturing over at Yui, who was mostly being talked-at by some random track club members, and mouthing a word to Taki over the noise.  _ Pathetic.  _

Even though Yui couldn’t possibly have heard, Taki felt a cold sensation in her chest, one that the black coffee couldn’t warm.  _ Is this shame? What do I have to be ashamed of? _

She remembered Sasada leaving, deciding she was “done with this scene” and flouncing out the door, leaving Taki with a hard kiss on the mouth and a sour taste.

She looked out the window at the beautiful, crisp autumn day. The leaves were collecting in haphazard piles in the gutter of the street. Even the sunlight had a golden quality to it, and as the midday sun rose cast its low arc of golden light, it glimmered between the treetops and highlighted the edges of every building in gold. She suddenly had the undeniable sensation that there was something laying in the grass outside, just there by the porch, basking in the warm light despite the chilly air. If she squinted and stared without blinking, she just might notice the imprint of a shape in the grass.

She was seized with nostalgia so violently, it was almost unbearable. Their little town out in the countryside was never a familiar name to folks she spoke to at uni, but to her, it would always be famous. Famous for Natsume’s “friends” and all the strange little occurrences attributable to their everyday presence. 

The memory of a late autumn afternoon hit hurt like Sasada’s hard kiss the night before. High school. Walking home with Sasada. They had been spending more and more time together, as Natsume and Tanume were off somewhere “doing something important” (which she didn’t realize until later, was probably when they first started dating). As they walked home on the cobblestone path, high on the hill of a grassy slope overlooking the river, they had been silent. Sasada had explained how her abusive stepfather was back living with them again, and how desperately she wanted out. How excited she was to leave for university, far, far, away in Tokyo, in just a few months. 

Taki had tried to hide how she felt. Even though they would both be in Tokyo, they would still be apart. They wouldn’t see each other everyday in class, walking home from school, or on the weekends, lounging around the town or park to while away the hours. The thought of it all changing, of losing something she couldn’t articulate, brought tears to her eyes. 

On that golden afternoon, she had started silently crying as they walked home. 

And that’s all that she had thought it would be. Just a little crush, something that would never take shape. 

But Sasada had gently taken her hand, and they stopped, there on the path. 

She had gazed into Taki’s eyes, the autumn light illuminating her face and catching her glasses. 

And she had leaned in, and kissed her, right then and there.

The days that followed were a haze of bliss. Secret dates and random rendezvous, kissing beneath bridges and holding hands under the moonlight. She remembered, somewhat fondly and somewhat sheepishly, her first night with Sasada, when they had clumsily explored each other’s bodies, hungry for understanding. How Sasada had asked her, begged her, pleaded with her, with sweat pooling on the sheets,  _ to call her Jun _ .

As Taki sat at the kitchen window, she savored the recollection.  _ Some part of me wants to hurt myself with this memory. Because it’ll never mean what I wanted it to mean.  _

She heard a rustle of paper.

Outside the kitchen window, autumn light was bending strangely. Like someone had hung a prism outside the window, the light was catching and refracting in an odd way. It moved. Squinting her eyes and peering closer, she couldn’t see it, but it was there. Or they were there. She impulsively thought of her grandfather’s yokai seeing-circle, but dismissed it as quickly as she thought of it. She rarely had encounters with yokai here in the city; surely, if there was one here, it wouldn’t bother her.

A tap at the window made her jump. Hesitating only for a moment, she opened the window, looking expectantly in the area where she had sensed...something. There was a pause, and then the rustling sound of paper. 

Through the window, as if it had drifted on the autumn breeze, a beautifully old-looking parchment lazily landed before her. She recognized it as a page torn out of a book, and the yokai symbols reminded her of her late grandfather’s work. It was undoubtedly ancient and invaluable. And someone--or something--had thought it was important that she see it.

She had the odd sensation of being watched, but not with malicious intent. 

She looked up at the space outside the window, thanks fresh upon her lips, but there was nothing to thank. She smiled, feeling silly for always looking. Always looking where there wasn’t anything to see.

Even still, she thought it couldn’t hurt, but she could only whisper. 

“Thank you.”

\--

It wasn’t until she was on the train that she realized her phone was dead.

Plugging it into a portable charger, Taki booted it up. Her family knew she was visiting the old countryside house, and they would all be there to celebrate her birthday that weekend. But a trip to her hometown wouldn’t just be all about birthday cake and embarrassing relatives. No, she had bigger ideas.

As she set her phone aside, she realized she had several texts from Yui.  _ I can get those later _ , she reasoned, too enthralled by the work before her. She pulled the old parchment gifted from the yokai out from beneath the cover of the book Tanuma had brought her. She had spent years studying yokai symbols, but their complex nature meant that she could only decipher about a third of what was written on this page. She would need access to her grandfather’s library if she was going to finish reading the rest. 

What she could read, however, filled her with dread. 

“Yokai -- a million sights -- end of the era -- power -- retribution.”

These concepts meant little to her on their own, and without the rest of the translation, she couldn’t be sure what they referred to. But the last word, she could translate. And it stood on its own.

“Curse.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a minute...but I promise I'm finishing this!


End file.
